Bitter Waters
by AJCrane
Summary: Kermit is sent to northern California to help stop what he thinks is a terrorist group hiding in a monastery. Little does he know that his actions set in motion the events where father and son won't reunite for 15 years.
1. Chapter 1

Bitter Waters

Part One

"Look out!"

The sniper's bullet hit him square in the thigh as he pushed the younger man aside.

"Paul!" Blake shouted as he witnessed the exchange.

"Get going! Don't worry about me," Paul Blaisdell said as he pushed himself off the ground and hobbled as best he could to cover.

"We're not leaving you behind," Kermit Griffin stated and grabbed their team leader under his arms and practically carried him to safety.

"That's a nasty wound," Kermit unbuckled his belt and pulled on it until it came loose. He wrapped it around Paul's thigh to create a makeshift tournaquit to stop the bleeding.

"The bullet may have hit an artery. He's loosing a lot of blood."

"I'll radio for help. We've got to get him out of here."

"This mission should have been scrubbed. Who was it that gave you those sources?"

"I think it was Styles," Blake said.

"That man's a menace. There's been more deaths under his command than any other."

"Still, the agency sees every mission that he's ever done as a success. 'Everyone looses a few men,' that's what they said, so long as the mission is complete. Well, not on my watch. The price is too high, the risks too great. Augh!"

"Take it easy, Paul. We'll get out of this."

Kermit and Blake worked to make Paul comfortable. They did their best to hide their tracks but with Paul's wound, it was going to be difficult to hide the blood trail from patrols. Kermit left their hiding place and took out his portable shovel and when he found Paul's blood, he scatted leaves, dirt, and other debris over it. He worked backwards from 100 yards, almost to the perimeter of the forest where they entered.

'That should keep the patrols from finding us until the transport gets here. I hope the information we got is worth the risk. This cloak and dagger stuff is a crap shoot.'

Kermit entered their hiding place from a different direction to keep his tracks covered.

'I've made it more difficult for our friends out there. It's going to take a couple of blood hounds to find us with the way I've scattered the trail."

"Good work Kermit. Now all we have to do is wait."

It was two more hours before the transport reached them. Once it did, two men came out to give them cover so they could make it to safety while the others helped get the wounded aboard. Once Paul Blaisdell was secure along with the rest, the transport made its way out of enemy territory.

A few hours later, Paul Blaisdell was out of surgery and Kermit was being escorted into Style's office.

"Looks like your group blew your mission," Styles stated.

"Like hell," Kermit stated and pulled out the envelope.

"I don't think you understand," Styles began. "I thought your team always came out without a scratch. You lost two men. And nearly lost your team leader. I'd say that was sloppy work."

Kermit fumed behind his trademark glasses. It appeared that Styles was trying to put the blame on Blaisdell for his incompetence with receiving less than reliable information. "The sources we received underestimated the number of guards at the compound. We managed to get in, but it wasn't easy . . ."

"Easy . . . You expect every mission to be easy?"

"That's not what I meant."

"If you think that mission was hard, you haven't faced hard yet."

"You're talking as if you're taking over the team?"

"I am, and you don't know the half of it."

"Blaisdell isn't going to like this," Kermit softly growled.

"Paul is being retired, along with Blake. They're getting too old. You on the other hand have the makings of a great mercenary. If you harden that heart of yours a bit."

"Like yours," Kermit replied.

"If you think so."

"Not likely," Kermit stated. 'I've seen the results of your missions. Innocent people die."

"No one is innocent," Styles said. "You'll learn that under my command. Here."

Kermit caught the folder that Styles tossed in his direction.

"That's your next mission. Read it over carefully. Our sources tell us that a band of Chinese terrorists are recruiting children in Northern California. You're to find their weapons cache and destroy it. You're to contact a Mr. Dao. His men will take care of the terrorists and rescue the children."

"Who is this Mr. Dao?" Kermit questioned.

"He's with the Chinese government, everything's in the file. And take those ridiculous sunglasses off when you come into my office."

"Can't, doctor's orders," Kermit lied and gave Styles a toothy grin that was more of a challenge than anything else. He wasn't about to let Styles have the upper hand and reveal what he really thought of him. The sunglasses at one time had been prescribed for his eyes from glare after suffering from flash burns to his face.

"They suit you," Paul had said. "Don't ever take them off. They make you look more menacing."

Kermit never took them off again except in private when he slept, took a shower, or while making love to a beautiful woman. After two years, the sunglasses became a part of him. He replaced a pair or two when they were broken or lost in the course of his missions, but he would be damned if he allowed someone like Styles tell him he couldn't wear them.

"I said take them off," Styles said, his voice going hard.

"You'll have to pry them off of me, Sir," Kermit growled, being as menacing as he could despite the fact that he was shaking inside.

"I could put you on report for disobeying a direct order."

"That's your choice, but the sunglasses stay right where they are." Kermit rose taking the file that Styles gave him. "Is there anything else?"

"No, get out of here and let me get some work done."

'Paper pushers,' Kermit muttered under his breath.

Continues with Part 2


	2. Chapter 2

Bitter Waters

Part Two

Kermit went back to his office, more like a closet with a desk. There was barely any room for a file cabinet. What rested on his desk was a phone, a keyboard, and a monitor. The keyboard and monitor were hooked up to a computer housed in another part of the building. Blaisedell had requisitioned him one, a major expense that not all could afford. Kermit tossed the file on his desk and then started typing in commands. No one else in the department had such a luxury. Kermit thought on what Blaisdell stated, and his reason for getting him the computer.

"You're the best at deciphering any code, and if there's information out there, I bet you'll be able to find it."

So far, there wasn't much, but that was changing. The need for keeping information secure would increase, Kermit would see to that. He couldn't create a world wide panic, but he would demonstrate the computer's usefulness.

Kermit opened the file and began to read through the information. As he read, he typed in what was in the file. This was the kind of thing that someone else could be doing instead of him, but those who were familiar with a typewriter would give him a blank look when it came to typing on this kind of keyboard. So, Kermit did it himself. It saved time and when he did do a search sometimes related information turned up.

It took Kermit the better part of an hour to enter the information into the computer. Once done he saved it into a special area on the hardrive that required a 15 digit code to open. The code was made up of letters, numbers, and symbols only one other would recognize. That "other" wasn't Styles and Kermit would be damned if he would give up the code to the new team leader of the Falcon's Wing. There were some things that had to remain secret, even from team members.

Kermit went over every detail of the file. The more he read it, the less he liked it. Who was this Mr. Dao? He wasn't any Chinese government agent Kermit was familiar with, and he knew quite a few of them. Why did he insist on using his own people to take out the terrorists? Something did not set right and yet Kermit was being forced into this situation. He had no choice. Styles made it perfectly clear that he could not refuse this assignment. He wanted Kermit for this job. Well, he didn't have to like it. Looking over the requirements for this case, Kermit decided he would seek out advice, and he knew just the person he wanted to see.

"I'm not a demolitions man, but Styles has called me in as an expert so I came to you for advice."

"You had the training Kermit, you know about setting basic explosives, that's all you need to know." Steadman stated.

"But they're going to want me to set them where they will do the most damage."

"That's quite easy," Steadman said. "It's not about being fancy, it's about the placement." Kermit observed Steadman pulling out a map. "You did say the place you are being sent to is a Shaolin monastery?"

Kermit nodded his head.

Laying the map out, Steadman pointed to several areas. "You set the charges here at these points."

"Where did you get these plans?" Kermit asked.

'All Shaolin monasteries are built the same way. Have been for over a thousand years. They are built by hand. What I don't understand is why are we attacking a Shaolin monastery?"

"We're not attacking it. Someone by the name of Dao will be doing the initial attack. I've been ordered to plant charges to destroy any weapons."

"Again, why?" Steadman asked.

"They're not really Shaolin from what I was told."

"Do you even know what a Shaolin is?"

"No," Kermit replied. "And I don't care. The less I know the better I can concentrate on my job, no matter how unpleasant. From what I know there's children involved. These terrorists are training them."

"That's bad business."

"You're telling me. Remember our very first mission?"

"Don't I ever," Steadman shook his head. "It turned out the children were the ones terrorizing the town."

"I don't like killing children, even if it turns out they're the terrorists."

"Are you certain the information you received is correct?"

"Styles says the information is reliable, this time." Kermit didn't notice Steadmen purse his lips when he mentioned Style's name.

"Kermit, do yourself a favor. If you have any doubt about this, even if you must do your worst, you make certain someone survives."

"So they can be questioned."

"Perhaps," Steadman stated, "But my gut feeling tells me that something is not right here. This may not be what it seems."

"Paul always said if your head and gut don't match up with what you need to do, don't do it. But Styles has made it perfectly clear there is no backing out of this one."

"You're young Kermit, and new to this business. There is much to learn. If Styles wants you on this, he must think you need to learn a lesson."

"I don't need to learn a lesson from the likes of him, from what Paul has told me about the man."

"Do yourself a favor," Steadman counseled. "Don't bring your heart into every job that comes along. It will age you before your time, and before you know it, you will be drinking bitter waters."

"Paul brought me into this business because of my skills as a decoder. I'm no mercenary. I'd rather see justice done."

"Even a mercenary wants to see justice done, for the right reasons and the right price. Not all of us are cold-hearted killers. Just remember what I said."

Continues with Part 3


	3. Chapter 3

Bitter Waters

Part Three

A couple of days later, Kermit found himself in the surrounding woods two miles outside the small town of Braniff, California staring at a structure that could have been built in China a couple of thousand years earlier. Kermit circled the building only to find that the best access point for not being seen was on the northern side where the woods nearly brushed up against the walls. There was a cliff on the western side and below that was a lake.

Hours before Kermit had circled that lake and came upon a granite marker. The name on the stone caused Kermit to pause.

"Laura Caine, Beloved Wife and Mother"

He was surprised to learn how young the woman was when she died. He took note of the last name. He would hear about the name Caine from time to time. In certain circles the name was despised, in others revered.

"I'll look up the name when this business is over,' he thought. 'Must be an extraordinary person to be revered and despised at the same time.'

Kermit walked back to his rental not far down the road. He pulled his car into an overgrown track that was once a fire road.

'Wonder if the locals know what's really going on, or if they heard any rumors of strange things at that monastery, if that's what it really is.'

Kermit often found that the locals could be a wealth of information. He pulled his car back on the road and head back to the town, looking for the most likely place where he might find that information. A bar where a lot of regular customers came and went was often a wellspring of gossip just waiting to be tapped. Rumors often held some grain of truth, if you knew what to listen for. One such piece of information he was looking for was on the man name Dao. Supposedly he was from the Chinese government, and in a small town like Braniff someone who was certainly not local, would stand out like a sore thumb. Braniff was white Middle America, and some one like Dao would certainly fit the description of the proverbial sore thumb indeed.

Kermit pulled his car into the most likely place, a tavern called the Golden Nugget. There were a few already starting at their cups, and Kermit did his best to blend in with the rest.

"Give me a beer." Kermit watched the bartender fill a large mug and place it on the bar.

"That will be five bucks,"

Kermit handed over the money then moved to a spot in the shadows. If there were going to be any gossip about the monastery, it would happen in the shadows, at least the kind of gossip he was looking for, other types would be spoken openly. He didn't have long to wait.

Kermit observed two men come in. They looked like they were of Chinese origin. He noticed how some of the locals stared with frowns on their faces but then quickly returned to their own drinks. No one wanted to cause trouble, which was a blessing for Kermit. He didn't need a bar fight to liven things up. They moved to the booth just in front of him after they got their drinks. Since he was sitting in the shadows the two men weren't aware of his presence. Kermit's attention continued to be piqued regarding these two, especially after they sat down and started in on their conversation. He knew he hit pay dirt when they started speaking in Chinese and their voices were low, as if they did not want anyone else to overhear their conversation.

"Are you certain it will begin tonight?" The first one began.

"He has promised that it would, once night has fallen. We have been waiting a long time for this."

"Are you certain that the grandson of the dishonored has taken over?"

"That is what Tan has said. He was to become Master, but the old one chose HIM instead. The taint continues to spread. It is as if all have forgotten what had been done in the past."

"I heard that He has a son as well."

"Yes, a mere child. Even so, the line cannot continue."

"What of the rest?"

"He cares nothing for the rest. This is a chance for our order to prevail. If they were to survive, our order would diminish. It must not be allowed to happen. Careful, there are eyes upon us. We best not speak of this further."

The two men grew silent after that as other customers entered the bar. The conversation soon turned to other matters. The two men spoke in English this time, as if to draw suspicion away. Kermit puzzled over their words. Even though he wasn't fluent in Chinese, he got the gist of their meaning. Whatever was going to happen would be tonight. Something about the conversation disturbed him, but he didn't have the opportunity to explore it further. Besides, it probably had nothing to do with what he was here for, and he did have an appointment to keep.

Kermit waited for the two men to depart. He waited for a sufficient amount of time so it didn't look like he might be following the two. Kermit threw down a few coins for the waitress then left to meet the man called Dao.

Continues with Part 4


	4. Chapter 4

Bitter Waters

Part Four

Kermit pulled out the slip of paper that contained the address of the man he was meeting. The address was to a run down house east of the town. The appearance of the house looked like no one had lived there for years. Kermit moved up the walk and heard the sound of several hammers being pulled back.

"Do not come any further. Who are you and what do you want?" The person spoke in broken English, as if it wasn't their first language.

"I'm here to see a Mr. Dao. He requested a demolition specialist."

Kermit was shown into the main room and was surprised to see several men in black checking and polishing several automatic weapons. Apparently this was the assault team. Kermit also recognized two of the men. They were the ones who sat in front of him in the bar and spoke in Chinese.

'Looks like their conversation did have something to do with this operation after all,' he thought.

With his sunglasses in place it was easy for Kermit not to give away that he recognized to the two men. He was learning more each time he wore them just how much he could keep hidden from his enemies, and even from his allies, even if the relationship was temporary. Looking around he did wonder how no one in the town noticed such an operation. Then again, the house was far enough from the town center and off of a smaller highway that didn't see much traffic. It would have been easy for the assault team to gather without too much notice, especially under the cover of darkness. All they had to do was come in one at a time.

Kermit followed the man to the kitchen where Dao was laying out his plans.

"We'll hit them here and here. Your men will come down through the roof. You know what to do, but leave Caine to me. He humiliated me once, he shall not do so again."

'Caine? Did he hear the man right? Humiliation? I thought this was some kind of terrorist operation,' thought Kermit. Maybe it still was and Caine was some mastermind. It didn't preclude a terrorist having a family and sons following in their father's footsteps. Still, it didn't set right from what he heard about the name of Caine. 'Maybe it's not the same man or a different Caine all together.' Kermit suddenly realized that Dao was speaking to him.

"So, you are the demolition specialist. A little young aren't you?"

"Age doesn't mean a thing,' Kermit replied. "It's the skill."

"Good answer. Let me show you where I want you to apply your craft."

Kermit observed the crude map. It looked like it had been drawn by memory. It wasn't as nice as the one Steadman had. He wished he had gotten a copy.

"This is the outer wall. Plant enough in these areas and the whole structure will come down on all their heads."

Kermit could not help notice the bitterness in Dao's voice. Though he was curious, Kermit did not pursue it. He learned long ago, not to follow up on such questioning. He was here to do a job, nothing more, but it would seem Dao was changing the parameters. "I thought I was going after the weapon's cache?" Kermit observed that his valid question was ignored.

"Check the explosives, see if they will be enough."

"What about their weapons? What kind of weapons do they have?"

"Their weapons are not important. They won't stop us in any case."

Kermit walked over to the crates marked in both Chinese and English script. The Chinese learned how to make explosives long before the Europeans did. And they continued to produce some of the finest in the world. There was enough C-4 to blow up the World Trade Center, not that anyone wanted to, though some felt that it spoiled the New York skyline and should not have been built in the first place. Kermit took two bricks of C-4 and stuck it into his utility vest. One would have been sufficient for what he was about to do, but having two would guarantee there was enough and no mistakes in judgement. Next he moved on to the detonators and timers. He packed about eight in his vest. He might not use all of them but this way he would not be caught short. Kermit was still packing his utility vest when Dao spoke.

"They will be finishing their evening meal, then meditation. It is when they will be most vulnerable. Remember, I will take Caine, the rest you can do as you wish."

Again, Dao said something out of context that did not make sense to Kermit. Why would terrorists need to meditate? Kermit also noted that Dao had neglected to mention rescuing the children. Perhaps that was already in the works and he had not been there for that briefing. Kermit went through his head about what he knew of the place, something that Steadman had briefed him on. A monastery of this type could hold up to 100 monks and around 20 children, but from what was in the report, this was no monastery but a cover for terrorist activity, and it was up to them to stop it. Kermit recalled his first mission with Paul Blaisdell. Like a naïve kid he didn't expect the unexpected. They thought they were rescuing children from a terrorist group, but it turned out that it was the children who were the terrorists. Every last one of them turned their own guns on themselves. He hoped this would not be the case here.

The men moved out, going in separate vehicles and in separate directions to end up at the monastery. Kermit observed one other fact that puzzled him earlier. He should have seen it then, but only now did it occur to him. If this were a terrorist net that was planning an attack of some sort, where were the sentries? Something about this didn't feel right, and yet if he tried to back out of the situation, something about Dao told Kermit he would not be allowed to see the light of day. Besides, he had no proof that this wasn't just what was reported. He would just have to do his job until something else proved him wrong.

They reached the monastery just as night fell, leaving their vehicles just at the base of the hill and in the trees. The darker it would be the better. What Kermit was required to do wouldn't take that long. He threw up a grappling hook and secured it on a roof support. Climbing to the top of the wall took only five minutes. Once over the wall he landed on an upper balcony of a colonnade and planted the first set of charges. He set the timers to give him enough time to get to the weapons cache and hopefully to give him time to escape.

Kermit moved silently though the monastery doing his best not to be seen or heard. A soft noise caught his attention, and Kermit quickly found a spot to hide. Kermit waited in the shadows, prepared just in case the man came too close. If it was necessary to take him out, he would. A man in robes did pass his hiding place carrying a scroll, but gave no indication that he knew Kermit was even there.

'They're taking their cover pretty seriously,' Kermit mused silently. 'I'd swear that man was a real monk.'

Having memorized the location where the weapons were being stashed, Kermit made his way there without incident. He moved into the room and was brought up short at what he didn't find. There wasn't a single assault or automatic weapon anywhere, not even boxes of ammunition. Strange looking spears and swords graced the walls. Kermit recognized a few from his martial arts training, but some he didn't. It looked like something out of a Shaw Brothers martial arts movie. There were kuan-dos, a six-foot long spear-like weapon with a lobster claw-shaped blade. There were also butterfly knives, and a three sectional staff. Kermit picked up one of the kuan-dos and felt its weight. He brushed his hand along the blade to discover that it was sharp to the touch.

'They want me to blow up this?' he thought. 'What kind of place is this?'

Before Kermit could set any more charges, all hell broke loose. Dao's men had started their attack and Kermit would be caught in the middle of it.

Continues with Part 5


	5. Chapter 5

Bitter Waters

Part Five

Kermit set the final charge and raced from the weapons room trying to find an escape route. Even so, what he saw horrified him to no end. Children and "monks" were being mowed down like sheaves of wheat. Some fought back but not in the way that he was expecting. It was then that he realized these weren't terrorists at all. None of them carried any automatic weapons. And they just didn't behave like a terrorist group. It was then that he noticed the very large golden Buddha sitting up along the top of the stares. That clinched it. Since when did a terrorist group worship Buddha? He recalled what Steadman had called this particular monastery, a Shaolin, monastery, whatever Shaolin meant. He would have to see if there was any information on Shaolins when he returned to Washington, if he returned. While distracted with his own thoughts, he was suddenly brought to his knees when the first of the explosions happened.

Then Kermit spied Dao speaking to someone. 'That must be Caine,' he thought. Caine looked like everyone else, saffron colored robes and a shaved head. He could hear them speaking but the words made no sense.

"Discard knowledge and its cunning, and the people will benefit a hundredfold. Discard morality and its righteousness, and the people will return to family duty and love, " Dao said.

Kermit could see the look on Caine's face was one of anger, but he seemed to know what Dao was talking about. Quickly a fight ensued between them and it was obvious that Caine had the upper hand.

Kermit didn't know what to do at that moment. He neglected to bring a gun since his job was very specific. He had no room for one anyway with what he had to carry. He thought about grabbing one of the guns from Dao's attack force, but it would do little good anyway. Everything was moving so fast. He found himself now on the losing side and every man that had been part of Dao's attack force fled the monastery and debris began to rain down. He had to escape or be caught here with the rest. Smaller explosions were all ready going off and the two largest explosions had yet to happen. It would topple the place to the ground.

'I've got to get out of here,' Kermit thought. 'Time to leave this party.'

As he ran past the colonnade an old man grabbed him by the arm.

"Please, we must save his son,' the old man stated.

Kermit tried to pull away, but the old man's grip was like iron. He really didn't want to hurt the old man, but if it came right down to it he would just to secure his own escape, but something in the old man's face and voice demanded that he pay attention.

"The son of Kwai Chang Caine must live," the old priest said.

Why did the old man insist that the son of someone he had only seen at a distance be saved by him. At first Kermit thought the old man might confront him about his involvement with the devastation, but he did not. It was as if he was ignoring the fact that Kermit was dressed in the same manner as Dao's men, but Kermit could not forget his own place in this drama.

'I'm the enemy,' Kermit thought. 'Why is he asking me for help? I should just get out of here, but . . .'

It was then that the old man had pointed towards the beam that had fallen across two small forms.

"The kid is probably already dead," Kermit replied.

"No, he is not."

Kermit then noticed that one of the bodies had moved and was trying to struggle across the floor.

"Father!" The boy cried out then collapsed.

"Now, we must move him. His father will be taken care of."

The old priest grabbed Kermit by the arm and pulled him forward.

"We've got to get out of here, the place will blow any minute," Kermit stated.

"All the more reason to save Peter Caine so father and son may find each other again."

Guilt suddenly flooded Kermit's soul as he realized what he had done and allowed himself to become a part of. This was no terrorist attack force. He realized they were the terrorists here. With the way Dao had spoken it sounded more like a vendetta against one man who had humiliated him in some fashion. Kermit realized he had played right into the enemy's hands and did part of their work for them. Remembering the indiscriminate way both men and boys were being shot down, if he could save one innocent life and somehow make it right, he would do so. Even if it meant he would taste bitter waters for the rest of his life. He was not the only one who had been duped. Styles also would have to pay the price for his folly at not checking further into whether there was a terrorist network or not. Both would be drinking from the same well.

Kermit was barely aware that they made it outside.

"Put him here, I shall do the rest. You better leave, Kermit Griffin. I know you will do what is right."

Kermit was swiftly moving into the darker shadows of the night. He almost turned back when the explosions finally came. It was odd how the timers lasted so long because he remembered setting each one for no less than fifteen minutes. The timers should have gone off sooner. Even so, what puzzled him more was how the old priest knew his name.

Continues with Part 6


	6. Chapter 6

And well founded, but it must be written into the fates. Even Gaia Bitter Waters

Part Six

The next day Kermit found himself waking up in his rental car. He somehow managed to make it back to the old house where he met Dao. Kermit got out of the car and entered the house. The place was completely deserted. Not a trace of evidence could be found. Even the dust on the floor showed no trace of anyone being there. All the evidence that Kermit had he wore on his person. He still had on the utility vest, but nothing remained of the timers or detonators that he used. Even the extra C-4 was gone. He clearly remembered, not using everything. Then he remembered one of the men giving him a drink after he returned later than the rest. They were celebrating their apparent success at having destroyed the Shaolin order. He didn't even remember the celebration.

'I must have been slipped a micky,' he thought. 'That's just great. I guess I should be lucky to be alive. They could have killed me.'

Kermit's mind was a jumble. It was as if last night's events had been a dream, but he knew it transpired from the cuts that he found on his hands and the smell of smoke that permeated his clothing. Then flashes of memory came to him and he found himself replaying every event in his mind.

Kermit stalked off to his car and for a moment sat in the driver's seat not doing a thing. "Damn that Styles," he growled and pounded his fist on the steering wheel. Then he realized none of this was really Styles fault, but he sure as hell was going to be in a lot of trouble. This was the second mission that Styles had been involved with that had gone wrong. Once again, Styles' sources were less than reliable. It was as if Styles was playing both sides of the fence.

Kermit drove back to his small motel. He took a long shower, doing his best to remove the smoky scent that permeated his being. It was almost an hour before he emerged. He then sat down at the desk and proceeded to write up a lengthy report on what transpired. He was just about to write about the incident with the old priest when he thought better of it. He pulled out the file that Styles had given him to re-read the mission objective. Nothing in the report indicated what kind of monastery had housed such men and boys. Being the thorough person that he was, Kermit frowned at not knowing every detail about a mission, and this mission certainly was filled with a lot of holes. Even Styles seemed to think he didn't need to know everything.

Seeing everyone dressed in robes, their heads shaven reminded Kermit that the place was some religious group. Seeing the large Buddha had confirmed it. He even recalled remarking to himself that they looked like real monks than terrorists. He thought it was some kind of cover at first, but then he realized they were monks, and the boys weren't being trained to be terrorists, but monks themselves. This whole mission had not felt right from the beginning, even though he could not put his finger on why at the time. Now he knew. He was certain that more innocent lives had paid the price last night, and he had been a part of it. But what really was that place and who was Caine? Why did Dao hate the man so? That was the 64 dollar question that needed answering.

Then a knock on Kermit's door caused him to scramble for his hidden Desert Eagle. "Who is it?"

"Housekeeping."

"Come back later."

"I have a message for you as well."

Kermit opened the door to see a petite but pretty maid holding a slip of paper in her hand. "Thanks, I'll let you know when to tidy up."

"Very good, sir."

Kermit shut the door and opened the note.

"_Come to the monastery and your questions will be answered."_

There was no name or any other explanation. The note was fortuitous. Kermit had been thinking about returning to the monastery as a means to gather more information for his report. Now someone had requested his presence, but why was uncertain. Placing the note in his pocket, Kermit holstered his Desert Eagle after checking to see if it was loaded. He then grabbed his suit jacket and his sunglasses and headed out to meet whoever sent him the note.

Continued with Part 7


	7. Chapter 7

Bitter Waters

Part Seven

The monastery wasn't deserted. Police, fire, and rescue vehicles dotted the landscape. Water trucks were dousing what was left of the ruins, which continued to smolder. Kermit could also see a few vehicles that looked like they might be from the city morgue to collect the remains of the dead. The rest were just sitting there waiting. People were also milling about without really doing much. Kermit looked around, trying to determine who sent him the note.

"Hey, no spectators." A uniformed officer approached him.

Kermit pulled out his government issued ID and badge, the one that gave him full jurisdiction no matter where he was in the country.

"What's the CIA doing here?" the officer remarked.

"That's on a need to know basis. Mind if I look around?"

"Go ahead, just don't get too close."

Kermit pocketed the ID and badge hen walked around the ruins toward the woods, retracing his steps from the night before. A man in saffron robes approached him. He wasn't the old man, but someone Kermit had seen only at a distance. He was one of the priests who fought back.

"Master Ping Hai stated you helped to save Peter Caine last night. You are to come with me," he said.

"Who are you?" Kermit asked.

"My name is Kahn."

"So, where are we going, Kahn?"

"To witness a burial."

Kermit was brought up short by the man's remark. "By the way, what was this place really, before . . ." Kermit suspected, but he wanted to learn if his hypothesis was correct.

"Before it was destroyed?" Kahn finished Kermit's words before he could voice it. "This was the first Shaolin monastery in this country, in fact in the world. There are no more Shaolin monasteries, at least ones that follow the old traditions. Now it has been destroyed by a renegade priest."

"Renegade priest?"

"Kwai Chang Caine defeated and humiliated Master Dao several weeks earlier. We did not expect Master Dao to return with an armed force and destroy everything."

So, he had been right. This wasn't a terrorist stronghold but a religious order. And he helped in its destruction. He had been part of that armed force. Deep shame and guilt filled Kermit. Even though he had not fired the weapons that killed innocent lives, he was just as guilty as the rest of them, because he had destroyed their sacred home.

"Why am I here?" Kermit asked.

"Look there," Kahn pointed toward a clearing where a stone marker had been placed.

Kermit could barely hear what they were saying, but it soon became clear who the young boy was as well as the old man. He recognized the old priest from last night, and the boy he helped to rescue.

"The boy is Peter Caine."

"What does he have to do with me?" Kermit questioned.

"You helped to rescue him. Ping Hai said he must be protected."

"Protected, why?"

"You were here last night, you saw what happened. He said you helped save the boy and can be trusted."

Kermit did remember the gunfire, the priests and children being mowed down like cattle, but at the same time, it felt like a dream, as if he had been an observer last night, not really a part of what went on.

"The renegade priest will kill him if he learns that Peter Caine still lives," Kahn answered.

"What do you want me to do? I can't take care of a child. I'm not that kind of person." What Kermit didn't voice was that he had his own family problems to worry about, especially his brother David. He didn't need another child to look after.

"Yet you risked your life to save him. He must not be allowed to fulfill the vow of vengeance that he has made at his father's grave."

"Why?" Kermit saw no harm in making such a vow. He's made vows like them before and for a lesser reason than what the boy did, but he's also not acted on them, knowing it would be futile.

"He was to be Shaolin. He must be allowed to have that choice again. If he fulfills that vow he will become like that renegade priest. He will feel nothing but hatred. I know."

"You know? I don't understand," Kermit questioned.

"I was once filled with hate for those who murdered my family," Kahn confessed. "Only one other knows the truth. It was the Shaolin who took me in and gave me a higher purpose. I owe them my life for that, especially Kwai Chang Caine. And if I can help his son, protect him in some way, that's what I am bound to do."

"So, what do you want me to do?" Kermit continued to question.

"Find a place where he can grow into a man without fear, without hatred. His spirit is like that of his father's, protecting those who are weaker, though he may not see it right now. He knows what is just and true, but grief and anger blinds him from it. If he seeks revenge, he will lose himself."

Kermit found himself listening to the priest while his eyes were fixed on the face of Peter Caine.

"His father, this Kwai Chang Caine, was one of the ones who were killed?" Kermit asked, recalling the name. The so-called terrorist leader who turned out to be a Shaolin priest, his own thoughts said, but he didn't voice them out loud. Silence ensued for a moment. Kermit turned toward Kahn to see his face more clearly. He could see that he was wrestling with something, as if trying to decide what to tell him. It was apparent there was more to this than Kermit knew. He could also see when Kahn made his decision and what it would be.

"No, Kwai Chang Caine still lives, but Peter must not know."

"Because of this renegade priest."

"Father and son will be reunited one day. For now, they must remain apart for their own safety."

Kermit listened and a plan formed in his mind. He didn't quite understand why he was getting involved at all. He should have flown back to Washington to make his report, but something about these strange events compelled him to remain. Without realizing it, he found himself helping these Shaolin, and doing what was right. Thinking further on the plan, it could take some doing, but he thought he could pull it off. 'Besides, a few months back he did talk about having another child. I think I may have found him another option.' Kermit gave a lopsided grin. "I think I know someone who could take the kid in, but it may take several months." Kermit pulled out a card and handed it to Kahn. "You can contact me at this number. Let me know where the kid's going to be and I'll see what I can do."

Kermit turned on his heals and left the clearing.

Continues with Part 8


	8. Chapter 8

Bitter Waters

Part Eight

Kermit arrived back in Washington, DC a few days later to file his report and to check on his friend and mentor, Paul Blaisdell.

"I understand the mission was a success." Styles said as Kermit entered his office with his report in hand.

"Depends on what you mean by success," Kermit stated then tossed the folder on to Styles' desk.

"You don't think it was?"

"Let's just say for my part in it, that went off without a hitch," Kermit said with sarcasm. "They got what they needed, but the place wasn't what it appeared to be."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Styles questioned.

"Everything is in my report." Kermit said, thinking about what he had written. He decided after all to do a complete report, but he left off the part about Kahn and the old man asking for his help to protect Peter Caine. As far as he knew Peter Caine was the only surviving student out of all the children, and it angered him that innocent lives were lost. He did include the information about the monastery and its true purpose. What Styles didn't know is that he also filed a report with the department head, and brought to that person's attention about the mission dossier. He explained how there was very little detail, and because of that, what they thought was a mission to stop terrorists, turned out to be a massacre of a religious order. 'Maybe something will get done to make certain this doesn't happen again,' Kermit thought.

"Good. I'll read it later. I have another mission for you, but that can wait. Take some time off. Say a month. You've done two missions in a row. That's enough for now. We'll talk when you get back. Also there's a little bonus in your pay envelope this month. Enjoy."

"Thanks," But Kermit did not feel like celebrating and he felt like he didn't earn it. It felt like a sham. Perhaps there was some other use he could put the money. Besides, he had someone else he wanted to see. Kermit left Style's office. He was heading out of headquarters before he realized there was one other thing he needed doing. Once that was done, he would head to the small home of Paul Blaisdell.

With the task complete Kermit drove up Connecticut Avenue and past the National Zoo. Paul's home was off of Brandywine Street, a good location for the kids with at least three parks and the zoo all within walking distance. Kermit arrived to find that Annie had taken the girls shopping with a friend and Paul was slowly recovering from the bullet wound that nearly ended his life. Kermit made himself comfortable while Paul made coffee. He looked up when Paul brought two steaming mugs of the brew into the living room, limping along.

"I could have done that," Kermit stated. "You need to be off that leg."

"It's all right," Paul answered. "You look like you lost your best friend."

"Is it that obvious?" Kermit stated, even though he tried to hide it behind his trademark sunglasses.

"You know I can read you like a book. Is it this last mission? I heard that Styles sent you out west."

"The mission turned out to be a success and a failure," Kermit stated with disdain.

"What happened?"

"There were no terrorists. The place was exactly what it was, a monastery full of monks and students."

"You mean Styles sent you out to destroy a monastery?" Paul questioned.

"It gets better than that. The man I was supposed to meet who gave Styles the information wasn't even remotely working for the Chinese government. He was a monk looking for revenge."

"Revenge . . . revenge for what?"

Kermit didn't answer. Instead he let his own guilt pour through. "I didn't listen to my own instincts on this one. Innocent lives were lost. And I played a part in it. You got something stronger?"

"No, and you better keep your head clear for the moment. I want to know what Styles said when you gave him your report."

"He didn't read it, not yet. I hope it sickens him as much as it did me. The man needs a lesson in humility. Not likely though. He'll probably send me on one of the worst missions where I'll never see the light of day again. Serves me right. I should have followed my instincts on this one."

"Kermit, you can't blame yourself. You could have refused to take the mission."

"I tried, but Styles made it clear I had no choice. I'm not a demolition expert, but that's what Styles sent me to do. Besides, if I hadn't someone else would be in my shoes right now. And he wouldn't care that real innocent lives were lost."

"What are you going to do?"

"Try to forget about it I guess, move on. That's all I can do. I've got to find a way to keep my feelings out of things like this. But I was brought up with an innate sense of justice and you taught me that knowing everything about a mission before you go into it helps to minimize any mistakes. I didn't follow what you taught. I didn't have all the details. And I didn't question this mission the way I should have."

"You can't beat yourself up over this. What's done is done," Paul consoled and took a sip of his coffee. "You going on any more missions?"

"Not for a month," Kermit sighed.

"Why don't you come with us. Annie and the girls would love to see you. There's a place I'm thinking of moving to. Would like you to see it."

"Styles said you were being retired."

"Not completely," Paul replied. "You don't really retire, you're more selective about assignments. I've been offered a position at a police precinct. Gives me an opportunity to focus on justice without all those bullets coming at me."

"This precinct in the same place you want me to see?"

"I wouldn't be telling you about it if it wasn't. Better drink your coffee. It'll get cold."

"Okay," Kermit agreed to go with Paul then followed up with his own request. He'd been waiting for just the right moment. He picked up his mug then set it back down, not taking a sip. "If you're going to be moving, there's a kid I'd like you to meet."

"Who is it now?"

"It's not what you think. I know you and Annie have been talking about having a baby together."

"That was before we learned that Annie couldn't get pregnant."

"Well you might want to consider adopting or maybe foster care. And I happen to know of a kid who needs a home.

"That's funny coming from you."

"Well I promised someone I would try to help this kid," Kermit said.

"What's the kid's name?"

"Peter Caine," Kermit observed that a look of surprise came over Paul's face when Peter's name was mentioned. "You look like you've already heard about the kid."

"No, but I did know a man named Caine once, several years ago. Could be a coincidence."

"What was his first name?"

"Kwai Chang," Paul replied.

Chills ran through Kermit as if someone had stepped on his grave.

Continues with Part 9


	9. Chapter 9

Bitter Waters

Part Nine

"Kwai Chang Caine? Are you sure?" Kermit asked.

"Yeah," Paul confirmed.

"Turns out Kwai Chang Caine is the name of the man who ran the monastery . . . I think he may have been one of those who was killed in the explosions. And I believe Peter is his son." Kermit watched Paul's eyes fall and his shoulders sag. "Paul, what's the matter?"

"The man saved my life once. I promised to help him whenever we would meet again, but it never happened. Now I can't repay that debt."

"His son vowed revenge on the men that murdered his father," Kermit said, his voice going down to almost a whisper, realizing that he could very well be one of those men if Peter Caine were to know the full truth and be allowed to fulfill that vow of vengeance. He was lucky on one thing Peter Caine never saw his face.

"Kermit, we can't let the son of Kwai Chang Caine commit murder for murder. From what I know of Caine it wouldn't be right. I'll take a look at him. Do you know where he is?"

"Last time I heard, he was being sent to a different orphanage than the one they originally planned. They're sending him out of state. There wasn't any room."

"There's no room in any of the state orphanages in California, that's pretty odd."

"Seems no one wants him because of his background, so they're sending him to a place called Pineridge, somewhere in the Midwest."

"Somewhere in the Midwest huh? I take it it's in the same state that I'm thinking of moving Annie and the girls. Very shrewd, Kermit."

"Hey, I had nothing to do with it," Kermit lied. In truth, he had made a few phone calls before visiting Paul. He wanted to be certain that Paul and Peter got together somehow. So he discretely made a few suggestions to the state welfare and social services office, letting them know that Peter Caine already had a potential home. The place was out of state and in order for that home to come about Peter Caine would have to be sent out of state as well. They were more than willing to co-operate. Now it was up to him to see that home come about. Master Kahn said he could be trusted. And the old priest said he knew he would do the right thing. To put that much faith in him, Kermit would do what he could.

"I can tell when you're up to something, Kermit Griffin."

"Uh I better get back to my office." Kermit moved and started to slip out the door when Blaisdell stated.

"You're not that different than I am," Paul Blaisdell said as he sipped the last of his cooling coffee. "You care more than you let on. Don't worry I won't tell anyone. Just don't lose that. Working as a mercenary, whether freelance or for any government agent can make you bitter after a time. You can also lose touch with what's important. Cultivate the outer shell, but try to keep the inside a little soft. It could save your life in the end."

"I'll remember that, though Styles seems to think you have to be hard boiled to do this kind of job."

"Styles doesn't know everything. He can be a good man sometimes, but don't let on that I said that. If you ever decide you need a place to get away from this business, let me know. I'll put in a good word in with the captain of the 101st."

"You know the captain of that precinct already?" Kermit caught on as Paul Blaisdell gave him a decisive wink and a big grin.

"Oh yeah," Paul replied.

"I'll keep in touch, Paul, the usual way. And let me know how things work out with that kid."

Kermit left feeling a little better than he had in the past few days. Before, the taste of bitter waters was driving him to distraction over that whole debacle, now he felt somewhat at peace. He knew that peace wouldn't last for long. He would be handed another mission where lives would be put at risk. He was learning to deal with it. Perhaps Styles was right, to a point. The necessity of hardening ones heart to do a job may be what was called for, but at the same time, it cost Kermit a little more of his humanity. How much was he willing to lose for the sake of his country? He didn't know for sure. In truth, he didn't want to find out. For now, all he knew was that the moment he would become like Styles, that would be the moment he would lose all sense of himself. Perhaps that was why he decided to help Peter Caine.

As Kermit stepped into the blazing sun, he placed his sunglasses on. Feeling their weight gave him comfort and he was relieved for that moment he didn't have to choose, and being out in the cold, out in the thick of it was where he belonged in order to do the most good. Missions will come and go, and for now, this little extra assignment that even Styles did not know about was set in motion. At the last minute Kermit decided to reveal about saving the kid, since that was part of the "original mission objective". After all, he did do his part, just as Styles requested, and that was setting the explosives, even though they should not have been set in the first place. Anything more after that, Styles wouldn't care.

Kermit was learning to not only be subtle, but careful in what he revealed to certain people. There was something about Styles that rankled him and one day he would figure it out. For the time being, he had other interests, and one of them was a pre-teen by the name of Peter Caine. He would watch and hope that this mission at least was a successful one.

End


End file.
